Although rare, Capgras is of interest because understanding it could shed light on the normal processes by which people recognize people. To decide that you are in the presence of your wife, not a stranger who bears an uncanny resemblance to your wife, is to make a personal identity judgement. We make them all the time, usually automatically and effortlessly with people we know well, sometimes with effort when we struggle to place a familiar face encountered in an unusual setting. An understanding of how beliefs about personal identity can go so spectacularly wrong in Capgras and related disorders may afford insight into the ordinary intuitions we rely on to recognize other people and ourselves. (more…)
Archive for the ‘human replication’ Category
In a new paper, “We Are Not Human Beings,” Derek Parfit argues that persons are identically their conscious, thinking parts, which he identifies as their cerebrums. This is a significant departure from the position he defended in Reasons and Persons, that personal identity consists in non-branching psychological continuity and connectedness with any cause:
Our identity over time just involves (a) Relation R—psychological connectedness and/or psychological continuity, either with the normal cause or with any cause, provided (b) that there is no different person who is R-related to us as we once were. [Parfit, 1984, p 216]
I call Parfit’s new view a “retreat” because it is a move away from the radical insights about what we are which illuminated Reasons and Persons, to a ‘conservative’ account of persons as physical substances. I find the move puzzling, because I can’t see that Parfit is compelled to make it, and disappointing, because it raises once again the fog of mysteries about persons that looked well on their way to being dispelled.
Parfit’s claim that persons are their cerebrums has as a direct consequence that persons cannot survive information-based teleportation. If I plan to be teleported to Mars, I should accept that my replica on Mars will not be me, because my replica’s cerebrum is numerically different from my cerebrum. The cerebrum is a body part, which, like any other ordinary material object, ceases to exist when it is destroyed. Its replica on Mars is a different cerebrum—hence, if Parfit is right, a different person.
Parfit has long thought that survival—a person’s continued existence—is different from what matters in survival. His new view on what persons are could perhaps coexist with his earlier position that information-based teleportation preserves everything that matters in survival. But such coexistence, I will argue, is an uneasy truce between fundamentally warring ideas. An alternative account of what persons are—informational entities—is a better fit to Parfit’s intuition (which I endorse) that nothing important need be lost in teleportation of persons.
“Why We Are Not Human Beings” is Parfit’s response to animalism—the view put forward by Eric Olson and others that persons are identical to animals, or biological organisms. (In the animalist literature, “human being” is used as a synonym for “human animal.”) In this review of Parfit’s paper, I raise the following points:
- The arguments Parfit brings to bear against animalism rely on an intuition that has equal force against the paper’s conclusion that persons are their cerebrums.
- The claim that persons are their brains was strongly rejected in Reasons and Persons for reasons that supported a central argument of that book. If we were identical to our cerebrums, Parfit’s main argument against the Self-Interest Theory would be undercut in the same way that it would be if we were identical to our (whole) brains.
- The claim that we are our cerebrums weakens Parfit’s argument in Reasons and Persons that “ordinary survival is about as bad as being destroyed and having a Replica.” If I am my cerebrum, it is hard to believe that destruction of my cerebrum is not especially bad for me, even if a replica of my cerebrum is manufactured in its stead. (more…)
The Apparent Rationality of Prudential Concern
Consider the following apparently straightforward inference:
I do not expect to die soon. Therefore I expect to be alive in the future. I expect I will have experiences in the future. I anticipate having experiences in the future. Because experiences can be pleasant or unpleasant, I have reason to care about the quality of those experiences.
Notice the flow of argument: from a straightforward prediction of fact—that my death is not imminent—and the seemingly innocuous observations that persons persist through time, that persons have experiences, and that experiences vary in quality, to the conclusion that I have a reason to care about the quality of my future experiences. The steps in the argument seem innocent and deeply familiar. These ideas are so closely linked as to seem inseparable.
I suggest they seem inseparable because the core concept of a person is that of a subject of experience that persists through time. Because experiences can be pleasant or unpleasant, we think a subject has reason to care about their quality in the future.
By “subject of experience” I just mean whatever has experiences. I am not claiming that the concept of a person is that of a Cartesian ego, or a spiritual substance, or a biological organism, or its brain, or any sort of psychological entity. I claim only that the concept of a person is of something that has experiences. This claim is uncontroversial.
The above argument illustrates how a motivational idea—having a reason to care about something—can be embedded in what appears to be a straightforward factual description. (more…)
This is the final episode of the story. If you haven’t read episode 1, start here.
David brings his face down close, nose to nose, so that Javeed smells the lawyer’s sandwich. “To win this we each have a job to do,” David tells him. “My job is to argue your case. Your job—no less critical—is to present yourself as the guy you were before you were arrested. A professional engineer, a proud Canadian, a young husband looking to build a life for yourself and your wife. You can’t afford to let this stuff get you down! Now, I’m going to hoof it to the hotel and beg a free razor; you can shave in the washroom. Another thing—you fell asleep in court yesterday. If you won’t eat, at least have an energy drink!” He hands Javeed a bottle of bright repulsive liquid. (more…)
This is episode 3 of a story about life insurance and the law. If you haven’t read episode 1, start here.
Javeed’s journal: Apr. 1st, 2089. Federal Corrections Facility Abbotsford. This morning I was outside with nothing between me and the open sky—the almost-infinite blue across which puffy clouds blew freely from the wire-topped fence on the west side of the yard to the same fence on the east. Birds fly over the fence, in and out. The robots on the corner towers pay no attention to them. We men, who know we are being watched, do not go near the fence.
I got a call from the Canadian Civil Liberties Union, some kind of liberal-minded NGO. The guy said I shouldn’t give up hope. I said nothing—but kept listening. In the CCLU’s opinion my trial was a travesty. I was incompetently represented. Instead of hanging up, which I should have done, I said, “Tell me something I don’t know.” That only encouraged him. He said there are grounds for an appeal. I told him I’m already in debt, expecting him to back off, but he did not. He said money was no concern—an important principle of law is at stake, and the CCLU is ready to fight for it. I’d be represented by a team of top lawyers, CCLU members passionately committed to overthrow the terrible precedent set by my case. Moreover, I’d qualify for legal aid! There are several grounds for appeal, including egregious lapses of duty of my former counsel (may he eat flies!), all the way to potential conflicts with the Charter of Rights. Would I launch an appeal?
“At no cost to me?” I repeated, to be crystal clear.
“No cost whatever.”
It being April Fool’s Day, and being a fool myself, obviously, I agreed to meet their lawyer, Mr. David Ogilvie.
As I just now read in the Qur’an, “Fighting is obligatory for you, much as you dislike it.” So I fight. (more…)
This is episode 2 of a story about life insurance and the law. If you haven’t read episode 1, start here.
Javeed’s first day in court lasts all of ten minutes. The crown prosecutor—Vinod Dasgupta, JD—requests a three-week delay, to March 14. Justice Mackenzie grants the request. Javeed is disgusted that Darren doesn’t object. “Javeed, bud, there’s a simple thing called playing by the rules.”
Rex vs. Amiri. On the morning of March 14, Javeed finds himself at Darren’s elbow listening to the theory of his life according to Mr. Dasgupta. The Crown will show that although Javeed purchased life insurance for himself as soon as he was married, he did not suggest a policy for his wife. That the marriage began to deteriorate in the fall of 2086, when the couple came under financial pressure as interest rates rose sharply after they bought their condo. That an expected year-end bonus from Javeed’s employer failed to materialize, and so did a hoped-for promotion. That Javeed was chronically over-optimistic about his prospects, and clueless about the financial health of his employer. That, unlike Javeed, Laila made an astute career move, landing a better-paid and more responsible job in the emergency ward where she worked. That Javeed urged her not to take the promotion; in fact, implored her to cut her working hours, even leave the workforce entirely, despite the couple’s obvious inability to meet their obligations on his salary alone. That Naser, the couple’s friend, who worked as a paramedic at the same hospital, helped Laila make her move, and tried his best to help Javeed see that it was in their interests. Tried in vain.
The Crown will also show that Javeed neglected to go in for a refresher scan on his policy’s anniversary date, although he continued to pay the premium, thereby ensuring his old backup would remain on file. That there was no plausible motive for this failure to update, other than Javeed’s belief, confirmed in his journal, that it would allow him to evade responsibility for his actions. (more…)
Thomas Metzinger’s work describes the self-model in which our ideas about ourselves are rooted. The model is (usually) transparent, in that we operate through it without (usually) any awareness of a distinction between the model and the underlying reality. It is a model to which we have a profound emotional attachment—most of us care, deeply, about ourselves in the past, present, and future. As a result, our self-models are motivational. They spur and shape our actions. We evaluate possible courses of action by putting our self-models through various simulations, and responding emotionally to the different outcomes we imagine. The research of Antonio Damasio has begun to show how our emotions must inform our executive decision-making processes in order for us to make what are commonly recognized as ‘rational’ decisions.
Most of what Metzinger and Damasio have to say about the self is as true of isolated individuals as of human beings immersed in society. But a case can be made that the concept of the self could only have emerged in a social context. I have argued that our concepts, particularly the entities recognized by our ontology, reflect what is important to us. The spatio-temporal boundaries between ‘things’ are artificial, not natural; they do not exist in nature, but are imposed upon nature by human beings. A person is an entity whose boundaries roughly coincide with those of a human biological organism. A person is commonly considered to begin sometime around birth; sooner in some traditions, later in others. The person is usually thought to persist until biological death; but many people believe that it continues much longer than that; and some believe that if the organism is sufficiently damaged, then the person may cease to exist before its organism dies.
Among other things, a person is a unit of moral and legal responsibility—a bearer of enduring rights and privileges, duties and obligations, merits and demerits, assets and liabilities, debts and credits. Those attributes of individual persons result from, and depend on, the fact that individuals are members of a larger society. If a human being is isolated for a long time from other human beings, legal obligation disappears from his life, and moral obligation, if it does not entirely disappear, is vastly curtailed. I would not go so far as to say that an isolated human being ceases to be a person; only that certain central and important aspects of personhood simply disappear from his or her life. Having moral and legal rights and obligations is a central and important aspect of personhood. (more…)
Successful replication of a mature human brain – one that we would accept as a replacement for our own, or for the brain of someone we love – must preserve almost all the connections within it. Connections embody the psychological properties that make human individuals who they are: memories, learned abilities, habits, associations, talents, and emotional responses.
In an organ such as the liver, it doesn’t matter that two particular cells are adjacent, because the liver is not a communications network. In the brain, the physical arrangement of individual cells matters very much. All our psychological attributes – the differences between the minds of an Einstein and a Hitler – are instantiated in that physical relationship. (more…)
My original post on technologies of human replication, a year ago, was mostly about numbers. I estimated that a ‘fair copy’ of a human being, functionally indistinguishable from the original, could be constructed from approximately 1016 bits of information. That’s a petabyte – a lot of data by today’s standards, but not mind-boggling. One petabyte = 1024 terabytes (Tb). The going price for a 1 Tb hard drive today is $70 retail; 1024 of them would cost $71,680 (less with volume discounts). By Moore’s Law, that cost should drop to 0.7 cents by 2056. In that time-frame, other technologies required for human replication will have matured. As I argued, the business case for developing such technologies is compelling. Three business drivers – applications where the economic benefits justify the required R&D – are transportation, health, and life insurance.
Some implications of the transportation and life insurance applications have already been discussed in the Phantom Self blog. Information-based teleportation –human replication as a means of transportation – is a game-changer for the transportation industry, but will not, by itself, turn society upside down. Travelling to Omaha as a stream of data will quite naturally become the usual way of doing business. The use of this technology for life insurance – restoring people from backups, after they have died – is more radical, because it changes our relationship to death. Death will be transformed from the ultimate loss to a temporary setback, like the setback called ‘death’ in a video game.
I haven’t said much about health applications. But in the medium-term future, health care looks like the biggest driver of all. Health care costs in developed nations are escalating towards fiscal crisis. According to the 2007 Commonwealth Study, the United States spends 16% of its GDP on health care – triple the percentage it spent in 1960. The trend shows no signs of abating. Average age in the developed world continues to rise, and annual health care costs increase with the age of the patient.
We need to do things better. An interesting development in health care technology, directly related to human replication, is organ printing. (more…)
I am always skeptical of claims that humans are unique. The facts that we use tools, and clothes, and language, have failed to differentiate us from other species. The more we learn about nature, the less well defined seem to be the boundaries between natural domains.
Avoiding sweeping generalizations, I will still say that the human species has gone further than others in some directions, including preoccupation with the future and awareness of death. I doubt my cat Charlie thinks further ahead than his next meal, and not even that far when his belly is full. Charlie lives in the day, and in the hour: he hunts with ferocious intensity, and sleeps soundly afterwards. I, in contrast, devote most of my energy to projects which may not yield results for weeks or years, results which in some cases (like the Phantom Self project) are highly uncertain. Charlie lives mainly in the scene of his immediate experience; I concern myself mainly with the future portrayed in my imagination. Charlie’s experience is, by and large, an accurate representation of the world he lives in; but the future events I imagine are often very different from events in the real future, as it finally turns out.
As early as young adulthood, some people feel a need to plan their entire lives. Our society encourages them: to choose a career path, for example, that will finance a mortgage. Before young people have paid off their student loans, ads exhort them to start saving for retirement. Careful planning for the future is praised as prudent behaviour.
Such prudent planning allowed our ancestors to make the transition from roving bands of hunter-gatherers to settled agrarian societies – a transition that presaged a population explosion and the beginning of human dominance of this planet. Success in farming required thinking about next year. Migration to colder climates would have been impossible without the ability to think things through: to preserve and tan the hides of slaughtered animals with the intention of making clothes and footwear; to collect stones and sods in summer in order to build shelters for the coming winter. Natural selection favoured the species – ours – with the greatest ability to plan for the long term. And so it has continued to this day: our powerful imaginations allow us to coordinate our efforts, invent, design, and build, anticipate potential disasters and sometimes successfully avoid them. Being so preoccupied with our futures leads inevitably to thinking about our deaths. (more…)